


lights out

by nekrateholic



Category: 1TEAM (Band), IN2IT (Band), 소년24 | BOYS24 (TV) RPF
Genre: Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, miss peregrine's home for peculiar children au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-09-30 23:22:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20455253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nekrateholic/pseuds/nekrateholic
Summary: Some wounds never really heal, Inho knows this all too well. Sungho doesn't have the cure but he makes it better anyway.





	lights out

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Quackyeon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quackyeon/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Dreams](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10481865) by [Quackyeon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quackyeon/pseuds/Quackyeon). 

> dear recipient ♥  
i'm not as familiar with either group as i wish i was (or the show for that matter) but Inho is my child and i just. could not resist ;; this is v v different than what i'm used to writing but. you're truly amazing, i hope you enjoy it ♥

The house is burning.

Inho thinks it’s funny, how their loop was set to repeat the day right before the fire that burned down their entire town. Ymbrynes can be so dramatic.

What’s funnier is how ultimately, fire was what ended the loop as well. 

He watches as the windowsill to what used to be his room crumbles under the flames. Somewhere in there, his friends are fighting for air. Inho is, too. Somewhere deeper, Chanmi is fighting the hollow. She’d insisted, back when it all started, that they’re not that far in age. That they should call her just that, Chanmi, social norms be damned. _ Miss Heo makes me sound like an old lady, _ she said. Some of the younger ones called her that anyway.

The front door is blown off right into Inpyo’s beloved tomato garden. There are flames lazily crawling up the edges of the frame.

Inside, there is a scream. And another, more powerful one. Something crashes through the east wall of the house but Inho knows that he won’t see what it is even if he could see that side of the house. 

It could’ve been so much worse, they’d said later. Chanmi was young, not experienced enough to have her own loop. It’s a miracle she even managed to defeat the hollow, even more so that she saved so many of her peculiars afterwards.

The flames died down eventually. The loop was destroyed but neither of them had been in it long enough for time to do any real damage once they’re out. Chanmi’s wounds never healed.

It’s a memory just as much it’s a nightmare and Inho has had this particular one a thousand times already. Sometimes the screams are louder, sometimes he’s back in the fire, struggling against the door of the closet Chanmi locked them in. Sometimes he sees the hollow.

A thousand versions of the same nightmare and Inho doesn’t have it in him to scream anymore. Doesn’t have it in him to _ feel. _ Funnily enough, if it did feel like anything, hollow would probably be the best way to describe it.

And yet, each time he wakes up, no longer screaming, his pillow tells a different story.

*

Being a mind-related peculiar is an odd experience but Inho has had plenty of time to get used to it. Inho’s otherness is not visible, not like Jiahn’s strength or the scales crawling up Isaac’s arms. Chanmi had a theory that mind-related peculiars are slightly different than physical ones because their peculiarity can be developed, made stronger. Therefore, they are tastier. It held no real life proof but it was something to consider.

Inho thinks about that as he walks into the kitchen, immediately assaulted by the smell of burning batter.

Sungho gives him a sheepish look. “I tried to make pancakes but Nana kept distracting me.”

Nana meows pitifully from her stool but Inho is not fooled in the slightest. He can’t be mad at her, though, so he ends up ruffling her fur instead (she doesn’t appreciate it, at least).

“There’s leftover rice in the fridge, just bring that out instead.” Inho says, planting a kiss on Sungho’s cheek before he goes to open a window.

That, too, had taken some time to get used to. Inho figures fearing for your life on the daily should’ve made the other ways in which he’s different easier to swallow, so to say. Being peculiar felt like a giant stage light was constantly pointed at him but being peculiar and being interested in boys felt like the stage lights doubled. 

It was an odd loop they had. They had some younger children, sure, but most of them were well on their way to becoming real adults and Chanmi wasn’t much older either. The topic did come up, a lot, and each time the boys talked about how pretty Chanmi’s smile is Inho agreed, because Chanmi _ was _pretty. But so were the flowers in their garden and so were the kids. Inho had a feeling the boys talked about Chanmi’s smile like he sometimes thought of Inpyo’s cat eyes which… was different. Being different in a place full of already different people was a hard pill to swallow.

Then the fire happened. They barely made it alive. Chanmi didn’t.

Inho decided there’s only so much of himself he’s willing to swallow for the sake of being normal. Whatever that means.

So, in a way, maybe being peculiar did make that part of his life a bit easier.

*

Their microwave makes this loud, whirring noise as last night’s dinner is being repurposed as breakfast. It fills the silence and Inho’s mind, white noise drowning all the stupid thoughts. Inho takes the seat Nana just vacated, eyes locked on the microwave. They should probably replace it soon, all this noise can’t be a good thing. But Inho is ridiculously attached to the thing - it was the first thing he and Sungho bought as a couple, back when they first moved in together. There is a whole bunch of stuff they bought together since but this first one…

Inho has never been too keen on letting memories go.

A pair of hands wrap around his waist and Inho leans back, body instinctively finding the most comfortable angle with his head resting on a bony shoulder.

“Nightmares again?” Sungho asks, dropping a kiss to Inho’s exposed neck. It tickles but Inho is too comfortable to move. Sungho, of course, sees this as an invitation to do it again.

“Same old, same old,” Inho sighs. He traces Sungho’s knuckles, then sighs again. “I keep wondering what would’ve happened if I had been stronger. If I could warn them earlier.”

Sungho’s arms tighten for a fraction of a second. “You being able to warn them at all is why so many people ended up alive.”

The microwave dings and Inho uses it to get out of a reply. He dislodges Sungho’s arms, goes to prepare the actual breakfast.

Sungho is right, like he always is. Sometimes, a lot of times, Inho wishes they’d met earlier. And not because Sungho would’ve been useful against the hollow, not at all. They’ve been together for so long now - still, all the years before Sungho feel like lost time.

Inho pauses, one hand on the microwave’s handle and a plate in the other. “I love you.”

It’s the wall he’s staring at as he says it and yet he can feel the smile weaving through Sungho’s words when he replies with, “I love you too.”

*

Inho was just old enough to begin a life of his own when the loop was destroyed. He didn’t exactly have the skills for it but he didn’t have a choice either. Returning to a family that never wanted him in the first place was out of the question. There was the loop and his real family there.

And then there wasn’t.

In the end, he got three part-time jobs, a shitty apartment and tried to do his best despite everything.

It took some time. Quite some time, really. But eventually life picked up a bit - Inho even found a guy or two to go on dates with. They were quite uneventful dates, the lot of them. One stuck around, then another. Funnily enough, both had the same ending credit: a secret. An experiment. The novelty of kissing a boy while talking about that perfect future, a pretty wife and a whole army of children. A whim. 

Inho wanted all that, too, was what they didn’t seem to get. So the end was this, both times: Inho, in front of his mirror, repeating those same words he did after the fire: _ there’s only so much of myself I’m willing to swallow for the sake of being normal. _

Neither of them were all that bothered when it happened. Sometimes, Inho wonders what would’ve happened if they’d known he’s peculiar, too.

*

It’s because of that same shitty apartment in a building this close to falling apart, that he met Sungho.

For the first time, at least.

Sungho was the new neighbour and Inho was too busy moping over his latest failed date to notice him. They exchanged names and that was that.

At least until Inho found him fighting a hollow in the dirty alley behind their building. He couldn’t see it, of course, but it’s not difficult to recognize the motions, once you’ve seen them. It’s not something you forget.

That first meeting? It’s not something Inho’s going to forget anytime soon either.

The hollow had seemed to knock Sungho’s weapon out - it was a knife, stupidly. Inho thinks he might have been caught off guard but it’s not exactly something they discuss. The aftermath? Definitely. What happens before? Inho wants to know and Sungho would probably tell him, too, but each time he opens his mouth to ask the memories, the nightmares… The crippling fear that they could’ve died, both of them, and Inho would’ve been unable to stop it. Everything molds into a lump in his throat and the question remains unasked, every time.

The knife had clattered a centimeter away from Inho’s shoes. He remembers the sound, loud in the empty alleyway. Inho had squinted, tried to focus his whole useless peculiarity into _ seeing. _ But the alleyway had remained empty. Yet still, with the panic in Sungho’s eyes, the way he’d tried to shuffle back, away from a very specific spot in this stupid, stupid alleyway.

*

“Tell me where it is.” Inho demands, and somehow, the knife is in his own hands now. Sungho of then looks at him incredulously, then at the knife. The seconds are tickling and Inho can feel the hollow’s attention shift to him, almost a physical thing. “Tell me where it is,” he repeats. _ I’m not too keen on losing my eyes, _ he doesn’t say. _ I have a score to settle, _ he doesn’t say either.

Sungho finally, finally breaks out of his stupor, only to croak out a, “Three o’clock.”

The knife is flying before Inho has time to overthink it. There’s a thump, and then nothing. For something this deadly, the way they go out rather anticlimactic, Inho thinks absently.

“You can see them.” Sungho states. Which - it’s stupid, really. In any other situation, Inho might have laughed.

Right now, he just stares at the man that can’t seem to figure out Inho’s existence. “I don’t,” says, dropping the knife, just to kick it in Sungho’s, _ his neighbour’s _ direction. “That’s the whole point. You can see them and I can just sit here, wondering if I’m gonna lose my eyes within the next two hours.”

Sungho picks up his knife, wipes it of something Inho can’t see and gets up on his feet. “I think,” he says, and the words ring clear in Inho’s mind even now, “that we have a lot of things to talk about.”

*

A lot of times the nightmares are about Chanmi, the loop. Sometimes, though. Inho will wake up, frantically reaching for the other side of the bed. It’ll take some time for the darkness of the alleyway to fade into the warm light of their bedroom. They never sleep in the dark - it’s one of the few things Inho refused to compromise on and unlike all the previous dates Inho’s had, Sungho accepted it with no arguments.

It’s one of the many things Inho loves him for.

He thinks about it sometimes. The awkward conversation that followed the fateful alleyway meeting. It seems Sungho didn’t grow up the way Inho did - his family loved him. But in the end, saying you can see monsters isn’t all that different from saying you can see glimpses of the future. Just like Inho, his parents weren’t too keen on accepting the fact that their child _ sees things. _ Unlike Inho, this didn’t stop Sungho’s parents from loving him all the same.

What’s important is this: when they met, Sungho had the barest of ideas about the world of peculiars. Inho knew so much more. But telling him all this meant baring a side of him he fought to keep hidden, picking at wounds that have barely scabbed over, heedless of the years passed.

It should’ve been hard. It should’ve been impossible and yet, every other evening Inho found himself in Sungho’s apartment instead of his, talking about his parents, about Chanmi. Listening to Sungho talk. It should’ve been hard but in reality, it was the easiest thing Inho had ever done at that point. (There were easier things, later. Laughing, letting himself be cuddled to sleep. Kissing. Sungho, as a whole.)

When it started happening, Inho was apprehensive at best. They had too many things in common. Too many unpleasant things. How was he supposed to know if the butterflies in his stomach are for Sungho or… the idea of Sungho. Someone like him. Still, with each day the glances got prolonged, real, hard conversation came easier than small talk.

Sungho kissed him first, in his kitchen, just as Inho was telling him about that kid who asked about his funny hair color. 

In a shitty horror movie style, the kitchen light blinked, then stopped altogether a minute later. Inho kept saying this is about to happen, even bought spare light bulbs because Sungho doesn’t goddamn listen-

He didn’t get to say it until way later, though. They never stopped kissing. Funnily enough, there wasn’t a single doubt in Inho’s mind then.

*

It’s four a.m. Inho doesn’t even remember the nightmare this time but he has an idea. It’s always the same thing: the past, the present, the future all bundled in a nice little pile of helplessness. Memories blending into fears and all the potential ways everything can go wrong. Deep inside, Inho knows these aren’t real visions. It’s not something that’s going to happen, mainly because a lot of it has happened already.

But _ what if. _

Inho doesn’t hear the balcony door sliding open but he does feel the arms wrapping around his waist, again. He leans back on instinct, like he always does.

“You've been awake a lot lately,” Sungho mutters, bringing him closer still. It’s one of those small hours in the morning, where it’s cold despite the season.

Inho traces the tattoos just under Sungho’s elbow, then sighs. “It’s been getting worse,” he admits a few moments later. It’s so much easier to say it in the quiet of the early morning. “It feels so real sometimes, like a vision almost. I know they’re not but...”

He doesn’t know how to continue, so he doesn’t. Sungho will know somehow - he always does.

His arms tighten around Inho’s waist. “Wake me up next time, yeah? I love you.”

“It’s bad enough that one of us has the messed up sleeping schedule,” Inho laughs. It doesn’t sound all that funny, except it does.

Sungho’s arms loosen up this time and in a moment, Inho finds himself facing him. “I love you,” Sungho says again. “I love you with your insomnia, with the nightmares and the badly concealed insults at my cooking. I love you just as much as I’ll love you in the daylight. Always.”

Inho wonders if it would be fair to blame his insomnia for the tears. Probably not. He does anyway, hides them in the collar of Sungho’s shirt. The hands resting on his waist wrap around him again and here, surrounded with Sungho’s warmth, the entire world feels just within reach.

“Let’s go back to bed, yeah?” Sungho’s voice rumbles and all Inho can do is nod, wrinkling his nose at the shirt, wet with his own tears. He doesn’t trust his voice but it’s okay - he can always trust Sungho instead.

*

Later, in the warm light of the bedside lamp, Inho shifts in Sungho’s arms. He’s tucked into the crook of his neck, so it’s to Sungho’s throat he says the, “I love you. More than anything I’ve ever loved before.”

It’s okay, though. Sungho pulls him closer and just like that, the nightmares aren’t as scary anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> huge huge huge thanks to **I** and **B** for the handholding and endless support, i highly doubt this would've ended up what it is if it weren't for you ;; and ofc **A** for being the best mod ever ♥ i don't deserve either of you but i love you all the same ;;;; 


End file.
